Star Trek - War Drums Part 2

As Oscaras reached for the heavy bolt that locked the door Deanna saw Captain Picard and Data exchange glances, and Data nodded slightly. The android must have been given a secret order, she knew immediately. She had told herself to remain calm and nonjudgmental about anything she might see on this planet, but the raw emotions of hatred and terror emanating from the crude shed made her sick to her stomach. Involuntarily, she stepped back as Oscaras yanked the bolt and opened the door.

It was dark and foul-smelling inside the shack, like a primeval cave. Captain Picard wrinkled his regal nose but stepped forthrightly into the darkness. Oscaras motioned the others to stay back.

"There won't be room for all of you inside," he said.

"Let Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi enter," ordered Riker. "Data, Ro, and I will remain here."

Doctor Crusher was already pus.h.i.+ng her way inside, and Deanna reluctantly followed. The counselor's reluctance was not based on fear or disgust, but rather on the certainty that her opinion of human beings, who const.i.tuted half her heritage, was about to be downgraded.

"Let's have some light!" ordered Picard.

"Sorry," said Oscaras. He reached inside the doorway and grabbed a battery-operated lantern. He turned it on, then returned it to its hanger on the wall.

Deanna gasped as the light revealed the inhabitant of the decrepit shed. Against one rusted wall, restrained by straps and a crude straightjacket, sat a pathetic young Klingon surrounded by bits of rotting food and his own feces. He blinked and turned away from the unaccustomed light. Then he drew his thin, dirty knees up to his chest as if he was about to be beaten.

Picard swallowed hard, mustered a smile, and said, "chay'. tlhlngan Hol Dajatlh'a'?"

The Klingon blinked at him in amazement and shook the strands of dark, matted hair from his face. Finally he lowered his legs slightly and seemed about to speak-but instead bared a set of jagged teeth and hissed.

Beverly Crusher looked twice as mad as the bound Klingon. "Release him immediately!" she ordered Oscaras. "This is no way to keep an animal, let alone a humanoid."

Oscaras poked his head in the door and mustered all the tact at his disposal as he replied, "I would advise against that, Doctor. He has bitten several of us, and he would instantly attempt to escape."

"Wouldn't you?" she snapped back. "Release him immediately so that I can examine him."

"You can make a preliminary examination while he's restrained," Oscaras countered. "Or may I suggest we stun him with a phaser first?"

Deanna watched the Klingon, who seemed to be quite interested in this exchange. Probably it was the first time he had seen anyone argue with his chief captor. His eyes, though reddened and wild, looked intelligent, and she judged his age to be about thirteen by Earth standards. Despite the filthy conditions of his imprisonment, he maintained a sort of primitive dignity-like photos she had seen of magnificent wild creatures that used to be housed in places like this on Earth, called zoos. She was certainly glad the captain had not brought Worf along. Seeing this, he would have throttled several of the colonists by now.

"I have a better idea," said Picard. "Let us beam him aboard the Enterprise where Doctor Crusher can examine him at her leisure in our sickbay. Also, we'll see if Lieutenant Worf can communicate with him."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," answered Oscaras. "He is due to be tried now that you are here. Also, we are hoping that some of his confederates will try to get him out. He howls when they begin drumming, so they know he's here."

"Do you refuse to release him in our custody?" asked Picard, as if clarifying the point rather than pressing it.

"I'm afraid I must," answered Oscaras, "for the moment. I'll take it up with the colonists, but the decision is mine."

Beverly Crusher looked angry enough to bite off Oscaras's head, but Picard flashed her a look that warned her to be calm. The captain was planning something, thought Deanna, and that kept her from adding her opinion to the matter.

The captain turned to the Klingon prisoner and said, "pich vlghajbe'."

Again, the boy blinked at the captain in surprise, as if one of these groomed and flat-headed savages couldn't possibly know his language. This reinforced in Deanna's mind the theory that the Klingons of Selva had raised themselves since they were small children, not knowing anyone else in the universe existed until the settlers arrived. Then their world and everything they knew had been turned completely on its head, and they had reacted violently.

"Lu'," the boy grunted.

Picard smiled slightly and left the shed. Beverly gave the boy an encouraging smile and followed the captain out, as did Deanna.

Oscaras did not look pleased. "What were you saying to him?" he asked accusingly.

"I will arrange Klingon language lessons for you," answered the captain testily. "In the meantime, I don't want any harm to befall that prisoner."

"You can rest a.s.sured of that," said Oscaras. "So what is our course of action?"

"We're going to return to the s.h.i.+p to discuss that," answered Picard. He tapped his communicator badge, which responded with a chirp. "Six to beam up."

"Aye, sir," answered the voice of Chief O'Brien.

Oscaras stepped back as his six interstellar visitors dematerialized on the spot.

Picard and party stepped quickly off the transporter pads, and the captain motioned to Data. "Take the controls," he ordered. "Get him up here immediately."

"Thank you." Beverly said with a sigh of relief. "I'll arrange a secured bed for him in sickbay."

O'Brien stepped away from the transporter console as Data took his place and entered the coordinates. "I am omitting his restraints," the android reported.

"Number One, phaser on light stun," ordered the captain.

The bearded first officer drew his phaser and checked its setting. They waited tensely while a scrawny, crouched figure materialized on the transporter platform. The Klingon's eyes stared wildly at them for a moment, then he realized that his restraints were gone. He leapt to his feet and bounded off the transporter platform with a swiftness that took everyone by surprise. He was almost out the doorway by the time Riker took aim and stunned him with a glowing ray of light. The young Klingon staggered for a moment, and Data rushed to catch him. The android lifted the unconscious boy in his arms as if he were an inconsequential piece of foam insulation.

"To sickbay," said Beverly, leading the way.

"Bridge to Picard," came the familiar voice of Geordi La Forge.

The captain tapped his communicator. "Picard here."

"President Oscaras wants to talk to you. He sounds awfully angry."

"Does he?" Picard smiled. "I'll take it in my ready room. Tell him to wait until I get there."

The captain strode out of the transporter room followed by Riker and Deanna Troi. That left only Chief O'Brien and Ensign Ro.

"What happened down there?" asked the ruddy-faced transporter operator.

Ensign Ro didn't hide the concern in her voice as she replied, "We may have chosen sides."

Captain Picard settled into the chair behind his desk and flicked on his viewscreen. The fl.u.s.tered face of Raul Oscaras glared at him.

"How dare you abduct our prisoner?"

"I'm sure I could find any number of regulations that would permit me to do what I did," replied the captain. "In fact, I could probably find some that would allow me to place you under arrest. Federation rules are quite strict on the treatment of prisoners, and it doesn't matter how angry you are at them."

President Oscaras's expression softened somewhat, but he remained defiant. "Captain, may I ask you how you are keeping the Klingon? He is either in restraints or under sedation, I know."

Picard frowned, "He's under the doctor's care. The fact of the matter is that someone must befriend that young Klingon. You are obviously not the ones to do it. There are a great many life-forms in that forest, and we have no way of knowing which are Klingons and which are sloths, chucks, or whatever else may be down there. You, in nine months of looking, haven't found their tribe. If you actually seek a resolution to this problem-and not just revenge-you had better start cooperating with us."

Looking humbled, Oscaras bowed his head. "You are right, Captain," he admitted. "We haven't gotten off to a very good start. I had hoped the visual record of the latest attack would be enough to show you what we are up against. Perhaps you got some idea from talking with our people today about how horrifying this has been for us. You live on a stars.h.i.+p, and if you find something unpleasant, you simply pick up and go to another part of the galaxy. We can't do that. Our frustration is total."

"I realize that," said Picard, softening his own att.i.tude. "You've been in a state of war, and war is dehumanizing. I can a.s.sure you that I have negotiated peace on a huge scale, between entire worlds, but that may have been easier than trying to solve this problem. We don't even know where to find the other combatants."

Oscaras held out his hands pleadingly. "Give us another chance, Captain," he asked. "Will you and your officers please come back for dinner tonight? You may keep the Klingon captive as long as you like. Nothing more will be said about it."

"Very well," said Picard. "We'll beam down in six hours. Out." The captain turned off his screen, then pressed another b.u.t.ton. "Lieutenant Worf, will you please come in here?"

"Yes, sir," came the deep voice.

Already on the bridge, the Klingon entered the captain's ready room immediately. He stood waiting at attention.

"Please sit," said Picard. "Have you heard about what happened down on the planet?"

"Very little," answered Worf. "I understand that we brought the captured Klingon aboard and that he's in sickbay."

"He was caged like an animal," said Picard frankly.

The Klingon gritted his teeth and growled under his breath.

"I felt the same way," said Picard, "but now I'm realizing that this handful of humans and Klingons has been at war with one another. I talked to people down there whose husbands, wives, and children were brutally murdered by the Klingons. The settlers have become desensitized and dehumanized. In all likelihood the Klingons have been brought up with no laws but those of their own survival. Have you talked to anyone on the High Council about this?"

"Yes"-Worf scowled-"I talked to Kang. As I feared, they don't wish to bring up the loss of the Kapor'At colonies. The records are sealed, the histories rewritten, and that's the way they want them to stay. I suspect there may be a way to secretly repatriate the survivors to the home worlds, but there will be no official help. No official acknowledgement."

"Then we're on our own." Picard nodded grimly. "Worf, you must befriend that boy down in sickbay and gain his trust. I believe he remembers some of the Klingon language, and the more that comes back to him, the better we'll be able to communicate. Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi will give you all the help they can, but he'll never trust them as he will you. And you were right-you will have to go down to the planet and find all of them."

"Yes, Captain." Worf nodded. "I am ready."

"You're relieved of bridge duty and all other a.s.signments for the duration of this mission. Let me know when you're ready to begin your search on the planet, and what you need. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," said Worf, nodding. He stood, started for the door, then turned to say, "I have known what it is to be orphaned and cut off from my own people. To lose my laws and heritage. My adoptive parents returned them to me, and I will do the same for the survivors of Kapor'At."

"I have no doubt," said Picard. "Good luck."

Worf could hear the howls and screams emanating from sickbay when he was still several meters away from the door. He began to jog and reached the doorway just as Beverly Crusher tumbled backward into his arms. She nearly jabbed him with the hypo in her hand.

"Thank G.o.d you're here!" she gasped. "He broke out of his restraints."

Worf gently moved the doctor aside and strode into sickbay as another howl erupted. He saw a scrawny, dirty Klingon slas.h.i.+ng his clawlike hands at two attendants who were trying to ward him off with trays. The crouching figure seemed determined to use screaming and sheer noise to keep his attackers at bay, and Worf marveled at his lung power.

His back was to Worf, and the elder Klingon was able to study the younger one for a second. He could almost sense the frightened youngster trying to figure out where he was and what he was going to do about it. He had decided for certain that he wasn't going to let any of them touch him.

Worf motioned the attendants back, then showed that he had a certain amount of lung power himself as he bellowed in his deepest voice, "yitamchoH!"

The adolescent Klingon whirled around and stared in amazement at something he had never seen before-an adult Klingon! His mouth gaped open between sunken cheeks, and he stumbled backward as Worf walked slowly toward him.

"Do you have a name?" Worf asked in Klingon.

The boy shook his head-not in answer but in disbelief, as if he couldn't conceive of another creature like himself, speaking a version of his tongue, in a place as strange as this. He lunged at one of the attendants and grabbed his tray. He held it in one hand and drummed on it with the other, his long fingernails beating a frenetic tattoo. The boy accompanied his drumming with howls and guttural groans, as if Worf was an evil spirit that could be driven away. The security officer stopped his advance, hoping that might stop the awful racket.

"Can you speak?" Worf asked with exasperation, "or only make noise?"

The boy stopped for a moment and muttered, "Am I dead?"

Worf laughed, and the unexpected sound of his laughter disarmed the young Klingon even more. It also caused him to increase his drumming and howling.

"Enough," Worf pleaded, still speaking Klingon. "We won't harm you, I promise."

"Or laugh at him either," Doctor Crusher suggested. "Just keep talking to him, as gently as possible."

The sight of the older Klingon and the red-haired female speaking to each other seemed to transfix the adolescent, and he stopped his frantic drumming. He waited, his frightened eyes s.h.i.+fting warily from one person to another.

"I am Worf," said the security officer, tapping his chest. "Do you have a name?"

"Turrok," answered the boy.

"Turrok," said Worf. "Welcome to the Enterprise."

Chapter Three.

THE STANDOFF CONTINUED-with Worf, Beverly, and two sickbay attendants on one side and a frightened, confused Klingon youth on the other. Turrok was armed only with his makes.h.i.+ft drum and a small metal tray, and the Enterprise personnel had hypos and phasers. But Worf was uncertain what to do next as the rawboned adolescent cowered before them.

"I can't keep talking," said Worf with frustration. "I don't think he understands half of what I'm saying. His language has been corrupted."

"Yours would be, too," answered Beverly, "if you had been tossed in the woods at the age of four. The more you talk to him and force him to speak, the more his language will come back to him. I don't want to sedate him, because that won't get us anywhere. However, I do need to clean him up and examine him."

"He seems healthy to me," Worf observed.

"These surroundings must seem very strange to him," said Beverly. She tapped her communicator badge. "Crusher to Picard."

"Picard here," answered the familiar clipped tones.

"Jean-Luc, our visitor is awake and very frightened. Worf has been able to communicate with him a little bit, and we know his name is Turrok."

"That's an excellent beginning," answered Picard. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Yes, I think there is," she replied. "Would you be able to clear the holodeck and set up a program running some sort of neutral forest setting?"

"Absolutely," answered the captain. "I'll send La Forge right now."

"When that's done," continued the doctor, "could you direct-beam myself, Lieutenant Worf, and Turrok there? It might also be a good idea to have Deanna Troi join us."

"Consider it done," answered Picard. "Maintain your positions."

"Oh, Jean-Luc," added Beverly, "could you also arrange to have some food and clean clothes there? He looks to be about two sizes down from Wesley."

"Anything to make our guest comfortable," said the captain. "We'll put a comm badge on his uniform so he will have access to the universal translator and understand all of us. Picard out."